The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

13, H, grate

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

currently

you cannot feed someone truth

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

autonomy of learning

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

IWGD

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

we can only engage in such a way

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

i see a website

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.